


Reunited and It Feels So Good

by ThatDayDreamer



Category: Grand Theft Auto - Fandom, Grand Theft Auto V, Trevor Philips - Fandom, Video Games - Fandom
Genre: F/M, GTA, GTAV - Freeform, Grand Theft Auto V - Freeform, Grand theft auto, Humor, Humour, Michael De Santa - Freeform, Multi, Other, Romance, Work In Progress, franklin clinton - Freeform, ron jakowski - Freeform, the lost mc - Freeform, trevor philips - Freeform, wade hebert - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-22 18:59:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4846679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatDayDreamer/pseuds/ThatDayDreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A woman is enjoying her job before she is hit with a bitter-sweet reunion. After many years of unanswered questions and heart ache, will she be able to put her past behind her to trust again? (Contains strong language and sexual references)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Confusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go easy on me, I'm no writer but please if you have some constructive criticism leave a comment. Cos I'm pretty sure my grammar isn't correct and I think I keep jumping back and forth from past tense and present tense.  
>  (I don't know where to use a new paragraph, is it every time someone new speaks? Or every time when anyone speaks? idk)  
> Thanks for reading! ✌

"$21.50 please"

No answer. The girl was too busy taking in her desert surroundings. The air was dry and warm. There were very few cars on the roads and much less life than what she's used to back in Los Santos. It was quiet, calm and peaceful.

"Excuse me, Miss? Am I gonna get paid here?"

She jumped "I'm so sorry. I was just... How much was it?" she replied to the cab driver.

"$21.50" he repeated.

"All I got is $30, do you have change?" she asked.

"No sorry" The cabbie broke eye contact.

"Here. Keep the rest." she smiled and handed over her money.

"Thanks Miss! I never get tips." He saluted the girl goodbye and drove off leaving a sand cloud for the girl to choke on.

 _Great. Thanks_. She thought, dusting off her off-white, over sized, faded Love Fist shirt and black pleather trousers.  
_Combat boots were a bad choice._ She could feel her feet beginning to roast in the airless footwear in this desert heat.  
She pulled her dark wayfarer sunglasses down from the top of head and positioned them in front of her squinting eyes. _That's better. Now, let's see what you've got in store, Sandy Shores._

Although she was used to being in foreign places, her anxiety of meeting new people started to manifest. Rather than dwell on it, she walked up and knocked on the trailer closest to her. Hopefully the person behind the door won't be mental. She waited for an answer. There was none. The girl knocked again harder in her impatience. The door swung open, a small weedy man stood in the doorway. He slipped his headphones down from his ears to hang around his neck joining the strap that held the radio resting on his belly.

"Yes?" the grey haired male looked annoyed about being disturbed.

"Um. Sorry. I was wondering if you could help me Sir" The girl responded. "I'm looking for T. P. Industries. I have a business meeting with the owner, would you know where I could find him please?"

"Oh. Yes. I'm the co-founder and CEO of T. P. Industries. What day is it? I didn't realise today... Oh he is gonna kill me! Don't tell him you spoke to me, he's in that trailer there." He pointed to the trailer behind the girl. She turned to look but before she could thank the strange man he shut the door and retreated back into his home. The girl was confused by the interaction, paused then made her way to the opposite trailer. She glanced at the red pickup truck parked outside this trailer. She never understood why truckers pinned stuffed animals to the grills of their trucks, but she was bewildered by the sight of this poor one eyed teddy bear wearing a pink thong on the grill of this red pickup. _Huh. Well that's certainly different. Never seen that before._

Clenching her fist, she knocked on another flimsy trailer front door making it rattle. She heard a groan and a mumble of something about coffee from a voice on the other side of the door.

"Uh.. Sir? I'm here about the business meeting. T. P. Industries?" The girl listened for a response that sounded human.

"...what?" The voice groaned again. You'd think this guy was getting an early morning wake-up call, but it was 5pm.

"I'm here about the meeting regarding business with T. P. Industries. Are you the owner?" This time the girl spoke slightly slower for the mysterious groaner to be able to register the clear words of the English language being spoken to him. She removed her wayfarers and slipped them onto the front of her shirt.

"Oh, yeah. Yeah. Gimme a minute." The girl heard a thud and then rustling from inside the trailer. While waiting she stepped back from the door and gazed at the sun setting to her right behind the trailer. The light was blinding as it hit her while she stood on the porch. To evade the brightness she turned and fixated on a dream catcher hanging from the porch roof. She watched it sway in the warm desert breeze and leaned over the wooden table in front of it to get a better look.  
Just as she was leaning, the flimsy trailer door creaked open. A top heavy man wearing a stained, once white v-neck stood in the doorway. As he caught a glimpse of the woman leaning over the wooden table, he leaned against his door frame and stared at her round shiny bottom for a while before announcing his presence.

"Well, hello cupcake." The man sounded like he was almost growling, while fondling the crotch area of his stained, grey sweatpants. The girl stopped leaning and stood upright, before turning to face the man. She flashed an unimpressed look toward him. She still couldn't completely make out this mysterious moaner's face as she was still slightly blinded from the sunlight she glanced at earlier. It had also gotten darker from the sun setting, but it was even darker on this man's porch as most of the light was being blocked out by the shoddy, corrugated roof. She could however decipher a creepy smile on this man's face. This man's smile should have creeped her out, but instead it gave the girl a strange feeling of comfort. She ignored it and stepped forward and reached out her hand to formally introduce herself to her client.

"I'm Miss. Lawson. Mr Cheng's associate. Nice to meet you... uh..." The girl waited for the mysterious man to continue and state his name.

"Trevor. Trevor Philips. At your... service ma'am." Once again he growled his words and arched an eyebrow before reaching for the girl's hand, turned it then kissed it lightly. The girl pulled her hand back in horror.

"Trevor?" She gave him a perplexed look before looking at the man's face more closely. Her face dropped. She knew she couldn't believe it was him, yet his stupid familiar face proved her otherwise.

"Of course! T. P. Industries – Trevor Philips Industries. How could I have been so stupid?! I'd have never had come all the way out here if I knew it was you". The girl became manic, she was mumbling words quickly to herself. Her eyes shifted left and right whilst fixed on the porch floor. She failed to make sense of the situation. Trevor just stood there and tried to catch what the woman was muttering.

"Uh, Miss? Are you ok?" He reached out to touch the girl's shoulder that had now turned away from Trevor.

"Don't you fucking touch me." The man held his not-so-comforting hand up in submission and looked in her eyes. Trevor could see this woman's gaze was more dangerous than any loaded gun aimed at his head. He lowered his raised hand and was about try and make sense of the situation with this mad woman, but was taken aback. He just stood there, stunned. With his mouth open ready to speak but she cut him off.

"Fuck you Trevor Philips. You son of a bitch" She hissed, pointing at him and with a stern look she stormed down the stairs of the porch and down the path of the man's garden. The man meanwhile was a statue, sporting a very baffled look on his face.


	2. Unanswered Questions

Trevor's confusion soon turned into frustration and then anger. This was his immediate reaction to anything he didn't understand throughout his life. He also wasn't fond of the way he was spoken to in that tone but he wasn't too upset because throughout his socialisation with this woman some of his blood rushed to his genital area. Ignoring his semi, he jumped down the stairs of his porch and protested to the woman.

"Hey! For such a lil' lady you seem to have a lot of built up rage up inside ya." The woman ignored Trevor. She was distracted. Holding her smartphone she jerked her arms up and down, left and right. The frustration on her face was growing.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Trevor asked watching her.

"Trying to get some cell reception. There has to be some out here. C'mon! I only need one bar, then I can get the fuck outta here and never come back." she turned to Trevor.

"You know, I actually thought this place was pretty cute. It's quiet unlike Los Santos," Her face returned to the glow of her phone screen, she huffed and swung down her hand grasping the device.

"I had to run into you. Fucking typical. I was done with you. I'd moved on."

"I'm sorry sugar but... am I supposed to know you?" Trevor instantly regretted the words that left his mouth. He watched the woman turn her head to face him. Her look was twice as scary with the glow of her smartphone gleaming up at her face. At this point the pair were unaware of their dark surroundings. The only light sources were from this woman's phone and the bright buzzing porch light to the side of Trevor's trailer door that had turned on.

"Are you fucking serious? You don't remember me?" Trevor looked the woman up and down. He didn't recognise anything about her except her face; behind her smoky make-up, her young, feminine face was very familiar. Yet, he couldn't put his finger on it.

"Sorry love," he shrugged "I guess you weren't that good of a fuck". The woman slapped his face.

"I've been waiting to do that for nine fucking years you cunt." She breathed. While Trevor soothed his stinging cheek, the woman grinned a half-smile at the ground. Tucking her sleek and straight black hair behind her ear, Trevor noticed a very similar dove tattoo on the inside of the woman's wrist. He has a matching, if not identical one on his neck below his left ear. She looked up at Trevor and held her hand out sarcastically to shake Trevor's. Her voice became that of a stereotypical high pitched teenage girl.

"Hi Trevor!" the woman poked her cheek with her index finger and twisted it, making fun of whoever she was imitating.

"You may know me as Cherry the 18 year old stripper from North Yankton. You probably don't recognise me without my hair extensions and caked face, or the fact that I'm not the end of your dick at the moment. You see, we used to fuck and I thought it was more than that," The woman laughed.

"You, obviously didn't see it that way," her voice returned to its angry tone.

"Cos one day you up and fucking left me there and I never heard from you again! They told me you'd do that too, all the girls from the club. You were never the 'committing type' but I was so stupid and fucking naive I didn't want to believe it." Trevor frowned and his eyes darted back and forth at the ground trying to find his words. He looked up at her before she turned away hiding her wet eyes from his sight.

"Jesus... Fuck... Well you've changed ain'tcha?" Trevor's arm reached out to turn her body to face him again, but the girl felt it coming and brushed away his touch. She moved away from him. He'd hurt her before, but he wasn't going to let her go. Not again. He approached her swiftly and swung her around facing him in his embrace.

"NO! GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME!" she protested by beating on his chest with her fists in fury whilst trying to wriggle free. Trevor resisted her displays of rejection and kept a tight grip around the woman.

"I'm sorry!" Trevor pleaded while being punched in the chest. The woman's wrath decreased and her attacks weakened as she began to break down in streams of tears.

"Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you... fuck... you! You left me there!" Her voice became horse and her beatings ceased and instead her clenched fists lay on Trevor's warm, hard chest. She buried her face in between her hands and wept into his shirt. Trevor ran his hand down the back of her head and through her soft hair that rested just above her shoulders.

The man whispered "I know. I'm sorry. I hate myself." He kissed the top of the woman's head that was snug under his chin and held her close.

"You... left me there Trevor... You left me there." The woman muffled in between sobs. This time Trevor said nothing and just held her. His comforting strokes stopped and his hand instead cradled the woman's head. He rested his chin on the top of her head and stared in front of him, concentrating. His eyes moistened and he inhaled deeply, holding the woman in the rain.


	3. Shy

The woman pulled away from the damp fabric of Trevor's shirt and he released her from his firm grip. She laughed awkwardly and wiped her eyes and smiled up at Trevor. Trevor reciprocated the gesture and wrapped his arm around her shoulders and led her back towards the trailer. The woman raised her arm and scooped Trevor's waist as they approached the cover of the porch.

"Ladies first." Trevor gestured as they approached the trailer door.

"Thanks." replied the woman as she entered and sat on the rigid, uncomfortable couch. Trevor opened the fridge and clipped off the cap of a piβwasser bottle before handing it to the lady then doing the same for his. She took a swig. The air was still.

"..this tastes like piss" the woman protested. Trevor sniggered and took a gulp of his beverage.

"Yeah. Well. It's cheap and it numbs the thoughts so... it'll do". He hopped onto his counter to sit and face the woman, swinging his work boots playfully. The couple just looked at each other and basked in the silence. The woman smiled at him and broke the silence.

"Have you ever wondered what my real name is? I wasn't born with the name Cherry you know... thank god!"

"I did wonder, but never got the chance to ask you. So... uh... what is your real name?" The man asked eagerly.

"My real name is Clare. Clare Lawson. I had to pick a different name when I started working there. You know, to protect yourself from the guys who only saw you as a piece of meat, whether that was during work hours or not. Although unoriginal, I thought at the time that 'Cherry' was clever and cute for a stripper."

"I like Clare better. It's a classy name – sophisticated, mature but also short 'n' sweet." Trevor smiled and stared into her dark hazel eyes. He noticed the faint freckles sprinkled behind her make-up. A cluster resided below her eyes, along her cheekbones and on her small rounded nose. Clare stared back into Trevor's chocolate brown eyes and was aware of his scarred, ageing face. It had been nine years after all. They'd both matured and knocked back another mouthful of their urine flavoured drink.

Clare was itching to ask ever since she saw Trevor in the doorway of his trailer. She could feel her heart in her throat as she bluntly blurted out her words.

"Why did you leave North Yankton that day and never come back?" Clare looked down in shame while Trevor was surprised by the woman's sharpness. He'd missed that, a fine quality to possess. He'd forgotten what a straight-to-the-point woman was like.

Clare looked up in disbelief.

"... did I do something?"

"Oh hell no. You didn't do anything cupcake. It was my fault, well, not all my fault, it was this prick Michael Townley's fault. 'Cept his name is Michael De Santa now." he continued, rambling about his old running buddy. His swinging legs came to a halt and he glanced forward.

"We were like peas Clare. Me, him, and Brad. Brad, I'll miss you bud." Trevor exhaled.

"HE fucked it up. Fuckin' snake." Trevor hissed, riled up from past emotions. Clare waited for Trevor to calm down a bit before asking him any more questions. Obviously this subject was still sore for him. She didn't want to be reminded of his outbursts.

Clare set her bottle on the floor and stood. "Trevor, who's this Michael? And Brad? ... What happened up there?"

"It went wrong is what happened. This thing, it didn't work out the way it was supposed to. We were robbing this joint and... Brad... Brad got shot" Trevor's eyes dampened.

"Oh. Trevor I'm sorry." Clare reached out to pat his back, but Trevor's movement startled her as he finished his sentence.

"Mikey got shot too. They both got shot. I thought they were both done for so I took out some heat that ambushed us and ran. I wasn't going down for this; it wasn't even the big one. So I just ... ran. I ran and ran." Trevor gulped some of his beer and looked up at her.

"That's why I left you there. I had no other choice. I didn't want to. I had no time to stop. I didn't want to drag you into my shit, you were just 20 - your whole life ahead of ya. I hated myself; I still do, for breaking you. Leaving you there... you would've had a better life without me. That's when I came here to Blaine County. No one would find me here. I told myself over the years I was too old for you anyway." Trevor dabbed his eyes with his moist shirt and wiped his nose."

"Christ. I was 39." He chuckled after a bout of silence.

"That never bothered me. I've always liked older men anyway" Trevor looked up at her and arched an eyebrow. She loved it when he did that. Clare cupped Trevor's jaw with her hand and seductively leaned in closer to the man's face and then she was still.

"What bothered me was that fuckin' mullet! I'm glad it got a cut!" Her hand shifted from the man's jaw line and her fingers combed his thinning hair. Trevor moved his head to rub his face against her warm freckled arm. His eyes closed with nostalgic pleasure. Trevor's eyes opened then the pair locked eyes.

"Hey! I heard no complainin' when you'd braid it." Trevor scoffed. Clare blushed, lowered her hand from his head and playfully pushed his shoulder away. They gazed at each other again, grinning, before Clare brought out her smartphone.

"Hmmm, still no reception." She clarified.

"Oh you won't get no reception now." He said before swigging some more beer. Clare frowned at Trevor waiting for an explanation.

"This is Blaine County sweetheart. There's nothing here for miles. That goes for your fancy smart phone reception too. This storm probably won't help with the situation either." Clare stared at her phone and rubbed her temple in frustration.

"It's getting late." Clare said looking at the clock on her phone. 10pm. They'd been catching up and reminiscing for five hours.

"... You can stay here." Clare flashed her unimpressed look at Trevor once more. She immediately thought he was expecting they would participate in an activity that would be counter-productive for two former lovers.

"Fine. Suit yourself. My home ain't good enough for you, then get the fuck out." He said sliding down from the kitchen counter, placing his bottle down behind him he pointed at the trailer door.

"Go flag down a cab in the rain. You won't find one. Only a few come through these parts, and that's during the day if you're lucky."

Clare pulled on his elevated arm. "Alright! I'll stay the night. Thank you."

"Ok." Trevor rubbed the back of his head, only now realising their bodies were less than an inch away when Clare pulled on his arm. He pointed Clare to his bedroom; she strolled to the doorway and glanced at the state of his bedroom.

"Jesus Trev. Don't you ever clean your crap up?" The woman referred to the empty whisky bottles, cigarette butts, ashtrays and used tissues scattered on the floor and all over the bed. Trevor stormed in and simply brushed anything from the bed adding to the sea of waste that was the floor. Clare watched the man perform his version of cleaning and thanked him.

"Nice. Thanks, and by the way those posters really give the room its elegant charm. Nice touch." Clare remarked with a satirical 'OK' hand gesture. Posters of slightly crumpled half naked women hung on the walls of the small bedroom. She never said she disliked the look of these women. She enjoyed their provocative poses, but wasn't ready to admit that. The woodland scenery painting opposite the doorway however was very beautiful; it was a shame that it hung suspended on an angle.

"There. Anything else now before I go, m'lady?" Trevor bowed sarcastically like a butler.

"You're going? Where?" Clare became tense.

"I just gotta go sort some business crap out. I won't be long." The man clutched the woman's hand making her look down at her hand and then up at his face to a reassuring smile. The woman was clearly exhausted from the range of emotions she went through tonight and the beer earlier only added to her sleepiness. Trevor let go of her hand and exited the room to leave his trailer, but before he did he looked back to view the bedroom to confirm this whole night wasn't just a dream or a really cruel meth trip. There she was, stretching and yawning. She slumped onto the bed to remove her tan boots and positioned them neatly at the foot of the bed. Trevor watched her slide out of her pleather trousers to reveal a pair of lilac lace boyshorts hugging her plump bum before she comfortably settled in his bed. He swallowed, loosened the suddenly tight crotch area of his sweatpants and marched over to Ron's trailer.

Trevor stormed back into his trailer in the early hours of the morning. He was heading to his bedroom to crash but quickly remembered it was occupied by Clare. She was soundless. Trevor poked his head around the bedroom doorway and saw her facing away, sleeping on her stomach slightly to the right in a foetal position. Her left leg was arched high emerging from the bed sheets and her right lying straight. He always liked Clare's legs but this was not always an agreeable opinion when it came to herself. They were thicker than average especially up in the thigh area. Trevor liked them the way they were.

 _Perfect._ He thought, smiling. _Just perfect._ Kicking off his boots and removing his musty v-neck, he made his way to the comfort-less couch to spend the night. With his arm over his eyes he started to drift off to sleep.

Clare got up to use the bathroom and was shocked to see Trevor fighting for some rest on the hard couch.

"Trevor" The woman whispered not to startle the restless man.

"Trevor hon'?" He stirred and answered with a groan. "You don't have to sleep on that horrible uncomfortable couch. I feel really bad hogging all the bed when it can fit two people." She gestured him to follow her. An exhausted Trevor rubbed his eyes and yawned then dragged his feet while following the woman to the bedroom.

"You get in first. I like this side." Clare stood to the right side of the double bed which wasn't pressed up against the wall. Trevor was too tired to question her quirk and crawled into the warm, squashy bed. Clare pushed some sheets over to his side and slunk into the bed. Trevor pulled the sheets over his body and positioned himself in the shared bed facing the wall opposite the doorway, away from Clare. Respecting the situation and seeing it only as two adults sharing the same bed for one night and for nothing else. Clare did the same, cocooning herself in the covers she positioned her body so her back was facing Trevor's in the bed and they both drifted out of consciousness.

The amber light of morning arrived and peeked through the small cheap curtains found on a small bedroom window to reveal a top heavy man lying on his back, one meaty arm behind his head, another stretched out across pillows above the head of a young woman sleeping snug under the man's stretched out arm. Her head resting on his hard chest along with her arm sprawled across it. The thin bed sheets covering the lower halves of the peaceful bodies moved slowly up and down from their undisturbed breathing.


	4. Lost

Late morning was followed with a moan from the man, then with a brief stretch before stopping himself. He'd noticed Clare sleeping calmly on him. He sat up and watched her inhale and exhale deeply before they were both startled by the scuffle of Ron, rudely awakening the woman. Ron burst into Trevor's trailer calling his name. He was out of breath when he walked into the bedroom.

"Trevor! It's The Lost. They're looking for you!" Ron said to Trevor before looking at Clare. She rubbed her eyes and sat up in the bed, and focused on Ron and then on herself and then back at Trevor. She was about to explain but was interrupted.

"Oh, erm... Sorry. I didn't mean to disturb... uh... this." Ron rubbed the back of his head.

"I'll wait outside Trevor" He turned towards Trevor's front door then looked back over his shoulder to listen to the woman explain herself.

"This.. isn't what it looks like. I uh... We didn't... uh" Clare couldn't find her words.

"You don't need to explain yourself to Ron. He's seen me at my best... and my worst and he's seen me wake up with many uh ... people." Trevor signalled Ron to wait outside.

"I'll be out in a minute" He said. Ron shut the front door behind him.

"Why did you cut me off? I don't want him thinking we'd done... anything." Clare replied sternly to Trevor.

"Why? He doesn't care." Trevor slid off the bed and began to dress himself.

"We didn't have sex."

"I know that, 'n' you know that. It's none of his business." Trevor did up the button and zip on his jeans.

"I know." Clare threw the bed sheets off her and began to dress herself too.

"So why do you care?" Trevor asked her as he bent down to tie his work boots.

"I care because I don't want him assuming that I met you and just fell for your charm, again. Not that he'll know that, but-"

"So, I'm charming?" Trevor asked flirtingly with an arched brow, while he stood up and smiled at Clare.

"Shut up." Clare threw a pillow at Trevor. As it hit him he caught it and laughed. He watched her tie her tan combat boots and stand up. There was a brief silence before Trevor spoke.

"Why are you here?" Trevor asked tossing the pillow on the floor.

"Why? Don't you want me here?" Clare asked playfully.

"No. It's just; you never said why you were here. You said you were here cos of business with Cheng, but that was it. You must work for him or something."

"Yeah, I do as a matter of fact. I'm the person who meets with the client who he's interested in doing business with first, before he physically meets with them. He's had bad business meetings in the past, clients who are unreasonable or who are not serious about making a deal. I'm the person who scopes them out, to see if they are serious and how they behave. Then I report back, with the details and he decides whether he should waste his time to do a follow up meeting with them. It's a shitty job; I'm like Cheng's security vest or sniffer dog or something. If it's an undercover sting operation set up by the cops, then it's my ass on the line. It's a shitty job but my friend Lamar got me it. It's risky, but much better than working as a stripper. At least I'm taken seriously, and the pay is good."

"I know a Lamar. Lamar Davis? Met him through a friend of mine."

"Yeah Lamar Davis - lanky guy. I met him online; he put up an ad for a room in South LS. The rent was cheap and I needed a decent place to stay when I moved away from North Yankton. We ended up dating for a bit."

"Were you two serious? Did you fuck?" Clare rolled her eyes and try to ignore his immature question and his raised eyebrow, and continued her story.

"What do you think? I dated him Trev, but no, it wasn't anything serious. I was working at the local strip joint: Vanilla Unicorn at the time, and when I'd get back from work he saw how unhappy it made me so he offered me a job that a friend of his had offered him. It was working for Cheng, and after working for him for a while, I got enough money to get a small place of my own just outside of the city."  
Clare's gaze drifted away from Trevor's face, thinking of past memories. She blinked and repositioned her vision and continued.

"That was a long time ago. We're still in touch, just not as close any more."

Trevor listened intently to her story and nodded. The pair then walked to the front door. Emerging from the trailer Clare breathed in a big breath of desert air. Ron fidgeted and waited anxiously for her to leave him and Trevor alone so he could discuss some matters. Clare got the message.

"I'm gonna take a walk. I'll leave you two to talk about... stuff." Clare bounced down the stairs of the porch and down the road.

"Ron. What the fuck. You don't just barge into my home uninvited. What happened to the grand ol' tradition of knocking?" Trevor made sure Clare was out of sight before yelling at Ron. He cowered like a submissive male dog to an alpha.

"Sorry Trev, it's just Wade told me he saw The Lost hanging around and he overheard them talking about you and how they're gonna 'rip your throat out when they see you'. I just thought you ought to know that before-"

"BEFORE what Ron? Before they actually rip my throat out? I'd love to see those cunts try. Those bikers, those vermin; are all talk. All bark with no bite. A couple'a small dicks who're tryna talk big after what I did to their meth lab. That, my friend was some bite right there. Let's see them top that!"

"That's right Trevor! You burnt those fuckers to a crisp!" Ron praised Trevor.

"You're fucking right I did. We don't need to worry about them Ronald. They're just tryin' to scare folk and they'll end up crawling back into their shitty little holes of whence they came." Trevor patted Ron on the back softy then hit him hard on the back, winding him slightly before hopping down the stairs. Ron caught his breath and followed him. Trevor then turned to face Ron sharply.

"So... What do you think?"

"Of what?" Ron replied.

"Not what, who - of Clare. The woman you oh so rudely woke up just now." Trevor was being serious. He was waiting for an answer. This was new behaviour to Ron, Trevor never asked Ron for his opinion on anything.

"Oh. Um... she was ok."

"Ok?" Trevor frowned at his friend.

"Well, I'm sure she's a nice lady, but I just haven't talked to her is all." Ron replied, saving himself from Trevor's wrath.

"Fair enough." Trevor watched Ron become tense again. He was confused.

"Ron? Fuckin' chill. I said it's fair enough you not knowing her n' all"

"It's not that Trev. There's Lost coming toward us." Ron pointed at the four men that walked towards them. Trevor turned around to see three of the bikers carrying AKs and one shorter one with a shot gun. Trevor's heavier weapons were all inside his trailer, all he had on him was a pistol tucked into the back of jeans. He reached for it.

"Don't even think about it, fuckhead. We outnumber the both of you." Shouted the smaller biker walking in front. They walked up close to them. Two of the bikers where already aiming at each man individually, readying themselves just in case either of their targets tried something.

"We've come to negotiate with you." The biker continued.

"Fuck you." Replied Trevor.

"You ain't gonna listen what we got to say kindly?"

"I ain't gonna listen to what you fucks gots to say at all. I don't negotiate with the likes of some fruity, leather-chap-wearing assholes."

"That's too bad, Trevor. Cos we got something of yours that we were willing to give back if you'd've accepted our terms." The biker commented snidely. The other biker who wasn't aiming his gun at them, signalled to something out of sight to come over to them. A roar of an engine was heard, and in minutes The Lost's Gang Burrito van drove up to them and reversed so the doors on the back of the van were in clear sight of the men.

"What the fuck is this?" Trevor demanded. The driver and gunman stepped out of the front seats and walked towards the back of the van.

"This is your last chance Trevor Philips Industries." Remarked the snide biker, he's crossed his arms in his arrogance. Ron looked at Trevor in fear and confusion, then back at the bikers.

"Who do you hog-riding fucks think you are? You ain't got nothing I want." Trevor confirmed.

"You sure about that?" The biker signalled to the other bikers to open the back doors of the van. Inside the darkness was a woman tied up and gagged writhing on the floor of the van. She sat up and squinted, adjusting her eyes to the brightness. Her eyes shifted between Trevor and Ron at gun point and then she began mumbling aggressively.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH! UNTIE HER!" He saw her - Clare. The look of horror on his face was unbearable as he watched a loved one flailing, trying to escape.

The arrogant biker walked up to the van placed his shot gun inside the van, and sat next to Clare. She'd sat up and was watching the biker with wide eyes. He reached out to remove her gag and Clare flinched away from him.

"Shhh. I'm not going to hurt you" The biker said while creepily running his dirty fingers through her soft, shiny hair that came down and covered her face due to her struggle. Trevor watched the biker and became more and more furious watching him touch her. Trevor noticed the bruising on her forehead that her hair was hiding before. He lifted his large shoulders and tightened his fists.

"YOU FUCKING CUNTS. LET HER GO! NOW!" Trevor exploded while Ron whimpered quietly. There was nothing he could do; he had two AK47s aimed at his head as well as Ron's at this point. The biker removed the gag from Clare's mouth.

"You said we ain't got nothing' you want. So what we're gonna do is take this slut back to our place, maybe each have a go with her" The small biker glanced at Clare's shirt "Maybe give her a Love Fist - if we feel like it, then use her as bait and Cheng'll do the deal with us instead of T. P. Industries. You stole our business Trevor; we're just stealing it back. Getting back what's rightfully ours." The biker sitting next to Clare placed his hand on her leg and started to stroke her thigh. She tried to wriggle away, she was very uncomfortable.

"GET YOUR FILTHY BIKER HANDS OFF HER. I don't know anything about any deal!" Pleaded Trevor.

"Well, your bitch told us everything. Not willingly, mind. Asking nicely didn't seem to work with her." Clare frowned at the biker as he shot a glance at her, and then continued with Trevor.

"Cheng wants to renegotiate business with T.P. Industries and that's why she was here. That doesn't explain why she fucked you last night though. Maybe she is a slut." The biker turned to Clare and looked her up and down before forcing his lips onto hers. She tried to pull away. Trevor stepped forward ready to rip this guy apart before he was forced back by another biker holding the AK. The arrogant biker pulled away from Clare, licking his lips before whispering in her ear.

"You taste like cherries". Clare spat the taste of cigarettes and bad breath out of her mouth onto the floor behind the van. The biker struggled to put the gag back on her while she swore and tried to fight him off. She continued to mumble aggressively when the gag was reapplied. The bikers all got into the van and the arrogant one jokingly thanked Trevor and Ron for their time before closing the doors on the back of the van while still sat beside Clare. Trevor could make out Clare's big brown eyes gazing back at him through the tinted windows of the doors, before she was pulled down out of sight. Then the van raced off. Trevor was no longer targeted by bikers with AKs, so he began to chase the van down the road swearing and snarling. He whipped out his pistol and shot at the van's tires but his aim wasn't the best when he was running, and so angry he couldn't see properly. He did manage to burst one of the back tires but it didn't slow the van down. Trevor's speed declined so he could catch his breath and fell to his knees. He watched the van disappear into the distance. He cried and punched the floor so hard it made his knuckles bleed. By then Ron had caught up with him and saw him weeping, he rubbed his back until Trevor finished crying. The broken man stood up, wiped his eyes with his shirt and cleared his throat. A few minutes went by before either of the men spoke.

"What are you gonna do now Trev?" Asked Ron timidly.

"I'm going to murder every last one of the Lost MC Biker gang, and get her back." Trevor clenched his fists and was shaking with fury and emotion. He didn't take his eyes off the road where he'd lost sight of the van.

"You're gonna need help. Shall I go get Wade? We'll all go together."

"Yeah. Go get Wade. We'll need to prepare, get weapons and stuff ready. Get me some sticky bombs. We're leaving tonight." Trevor walked harshly and swiftly back to his trailer after Ron scurried off to find Wade.


	5. A Cliché In Distress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Trigger Warning* - this chapter does include a reference to rape/sexual assault. You have been warned.

The smell of smoke and sweat hung in her nose. The biker's van didn't exactly smell like a fresh meadow, but it was bearable. Unlike the company Clare was presently keeping. The drive from Trevor's trailer to the Lost camp in Stab City was rough and bumpy, much like her cab ride that brought her to Sandy Shores. Her journey had come full circle so it seems. She thought to herself _If I hadn't taken this stupid job, I'd be in my lovely air conditioned LS apartment chilling to some music... I wouldn't be stuck in this stupid desert sweating my balls off!... But also if I didn't get off my arse, I probably wouldn't have found him, after all these years..._ The midday sunlight was high and blinding. The brightness that seeped though the windscreen and in between the front seats, gave her some hope at least.

"Get the fuck up" ordered the mouthy biker whilst pointing a gun. They had arrived at the Lost Biker camp. The back doors of the van burst open leaking in the warm sunlight and cleaner air. Clare squinted and shuffled off the van and onto the desert dirt. Before she could examine the camp, she was shoved by another biker, probably the driver, in the back to walk her forward. The mouthy one had scurried off to prepare for the wrath of Trevor Philips with some other biker pests most likely. He's probably their leader. She shot a stern look behind her and treaded warily. Her unfamiliar surroundings contained nothing but rusty trailers. The people were pretty rusty and crusty looking too, staring. Shouting insults and profanity. Being associated with the likes of Trevor Philips isn't something these folk link to positivity. She looked away and continued walking. The gun piercing her back lead her toward a small metal shed with a rotting wooden door. The biker opened the door and shoved her again to go inside.

"Have a seat" He said menacingly, pointing to a rather unstable looking garden chair in the middle of the room. Her heart began to race as she did as she was told. She couldn't protest anyway from still being gagged. He tied her to the chair; the rust from the metal rubbing on her skin irritated it as she tried to unravel the knots. The biker then left the room to guard the door and keep watch for Trevor. Clare scanned the room for anything to cut the ropes to escape. Nothing. All that was in this shed with her was the chair, rope and desert dirt. She gave up struggling when she realised the guard was watching, then he shut the door and Clare laid on the floor. Complete darkness is scary at the best of times but Clare hadn't fully gotten over her childhood fear of the dark. She squeezed her eyes shut anxiously and waited in the dark.

Trevor stormed into his trailer nearly tearing the door of its hinges, not that that would be a challenge, and whipped out his phone and dialled the first phone number.

"Mike? Mikey-boy I need your help... what? No. It's not me. No I haven't eaten Madrazo - yet. LOOK one of mine is in trouble, will you help me or not? OR are you too busy with your movies and wasting away on that couch of yours? No? GREAT. Get your tits down to my place asap. We need to move NOW. We don't have much time. I'll try to get Frank on board too, ok thanks bye." Trevor then punched in another number.

"Frankin? Hey listen kid, I need your help. Mike is already on his way. Where? To my place in Sandy Shores. Call him, you two can carpool. Just get down here. I'll give you two an explanation when you both hurry up and FUCKING GET HERE. Great! I'll see you in a few." Trevor slipped his phone back into his pocket and raced out the door, nearly knocking Ron on his backside. After steadying himself he greeted Trevor.

"Here's the bombs you wanted Boss." Ron handed the sticky bombs for Trevor to take but Trevor walked by them and toward his garage.

"Great. When Wade gets here, you two will be fitting those to the trailers." Trevor replied whilst stocking up on weapons. He slid a knife into his boot and hid it with his jeans, he tucked a pistol into the front of his jeans and covered it with his shirt and finally picked up his combat MG and rested it on his shoulder to carry it to his truck.

"Uh.. trailers Boss?" Ron asked puzzled why he had to be involved.

"THE LOST'S TRAILERS RON. Where the fuck else? You and Wade- ah speak of the fuckin' devil" Wade approached the men anxiously and greeted them. Being part of the juggalo crowd, he's often seen wearing 'clown face' and oversized clothing, but today he was clean faced.

"What's up Trevor?" Wade lisped.

"WHAT'S UP WADE IS the Lost have stolen something I want back."

"What kind of something Trevor? Like business? Did the bikers steal some business?" Wade asked concerned.

"NO WADE. They stole a friend of mine."

"A lady-friend" Ron whispered to Wade. Not taking his eyes off of Trevor.

"I didn't know you had a lady-friend Trevor. What's her name? Is she pretty?" Wade asked innocently.

"Fuckin' beautiful. Her name is Clare. I met her back in North Yankton-" Trevor started to reminisce before being interrupted by Wade.

"Was she 'round the time you and that Michael Townley were in North Yankton?" Wade asked again.

"Yes Wade." Trevor replied in a defeated tone.

"So... how you gonna get her back?" Wade asked Trevor.

"You mean we, Wade. You and Ron will sneak in while Michael, Franklin and I will rescue Clare. You two will be fitting the sticky-bombs on all their trailers while we'll be going in GUNS A'BLAZIN'! Then when we're outta there, BOOM. HAHA! Bye bye Bikers" Trevor had a huge smile on his face and couldn't understand why neither Ron nor Wade also shared his joy. Just before Ron could interject, Michael: a slightly overweight middle-aged man and Franklin: a younger well-built man pulled up outside Trevor's trailer. The men emerged from the car and approached Trevor, Ron and Wade.

"What's happnin'?" smiled Franklin greeting them. Trevor reciprocated the smile.

"Trevor, what's this all about?" Michael asked bluntly.

"Well I'm doing fine, thanks for asking Mikey. Have you both met Ron and Wade?" Trevor pointed to his henchmen. Then back at Franklin and Michael.

"Ron, Mike, you've already met." Ron and Michael looked at one another and nodded.

"Wade this is Franklin, and that's that Michael Townley I asked you to track down in Los Santos." Wade grinned and held out his hand to shake Franklin's and Franklin reluctantly shook his hand. Wade then approached Michael for the same gesture but Michael ignored him. Agitated, Michael stepped closer to Trevor in anger from the lack of explanation, whilst Franklin and Ron acknowledged each other.

"TREVOR. What the fuck are we doing here?" Michael ordered.

"Manners Mikey boy. Ok well. You know that biker gang that are constantly on me. Well they've taken something from me."

"They took Trevor's lady-friend from North Yankton" Wade added before being softly shoved by Ron signalling him to shut up.

"Lady friend? From North Yankton? I don't remember you with a woman up there... well there was that one girl from that club we used to go to who flirted a lot with you. But she was young, like really young. No way you would have... you know" Michael was rubbing his stubbly chin before his eyes darted back to Trevor's.

"NOT that it's any of your business, Mike, but yeah. I know she was young, but I was too. Kind of... IT DOESN'T MATTER. She meant something to me, still does. I know the term 'loyalty' slithered out from your vocabulary long ago Mike, but it'll forever be my priority. She's the only one I loved who came back. Everyone else leaves me." Blinking back tears, Trevor worked himself up from previous memories and built up emotions that he had trouble expressing without getting angry.

"Stop with this loyalty lecture bullshit, and cut with the snake crap would ya? I came back didn't I?" Michael pleaded.

"Yeah but I had to find you Mikey. You didn't wanna be found. You weren't looking for me. You couldn't give a fuck"

"I wasn't looking for you, you dumb shit, because I thought you were dead."

"Didn't stop you from running off with the dough though did it friend?"

"Look, if you don't want my help-"

"HEY would you two shut the fuck up. T man, I didn't come all the way out here to hear you two bitch about the not-so-good ol' days. What's the fucking plan?" Franklin finally disrupted the squabble. Ron and Wade were fidgeting and trying to avoid confrontation. They looked like two children watching their parents argue. Michael cracked his neck and Trevor was tense, balled his fists and arched his shoulders ready to pounce. He didn't break his eye contact with Michael, until after a couple of seconds or so. He relaxed his body and exhaled.

"Ok. The plan. We'll go in at the same time, 'cept Ron and Wade will be sneaking in and fixing sticky bombs to the trailers while me, you and Mike will be taking out as many of those biker fucks as it takes to find her." Trevor then handed Michael and Franklin weapons.

"Then we rescue her, all meet back at my truck, drive off and then BOOM!" Trevor continued.

"Bye bye Bikers" Ron repeated nervously.

"Alright man. Then let's go get your damsel in distress bro." added Franklin before hopping into the back of Trevor's truck with Michael and Wade. Trevor picked up his gun and took the driver seat while Ron scuttled to the passenger seat.

The rusty shed door creaked open, letting in brightness that silhouetted the mouthy biker from before. Clare's heart rate began to increase as she opened her eyes and focused and recognised the figure. The guard from before had gone and the biker closed the door behind him, picked up Clare and the chair and stood in front of her. His beer belly nearly touching the end of her freckled nose. She saw him put his hand on the crotch of his old jeans, drawing attention to the area and she looked away in disgust.

"Now. Cherries, I'm going to take that gag off your pretty little mouth, and all you're gonna do is put my cock in your mouth and suck me off like your life depended on it. Cos your life does depend on it, so make it a good one." Clare's head was still turned away from the pungent biker; she wasn't taking any notice of his threats. He then brought out a pistol he had in the back of his tight jeans and poked it into her plump cheek, turning her head back to face up at him. He moistened his cracked lips and smiled, showing off his discoloured teeth. Clare retched slightly before he began to unzip his pants to expose his penis. He then began to fondle himself, inches from Clare's face. She pushed her feet on the dirt floor causing the chair to slide back away from this sicko, until she couldn't back away anymore. Clare was up against the back wall of the shed. Her heart sank, she felt ill. The colour from her face faded whilst the man continued to fondle himself and approached his victim.

"I ain't gonna blow my load on you just yet, I'm get'n him hard for you. You swallow right?" The biker then used the hand he used to fondle himself to viciously remove the tape that was gagging her. Her full lips swelled and stung. He then proceeded to press the pistol into her cheek to make her open her mouth.

"I'LL CHEW THE FUCKING THING OFF. I'M NOT FUCKING JOKING." Clare erupted before quickly being silenced by the butt of the gun that hit her across the jaw.

"DON'T TALK BACK TO ME WHORE. Who the fuck do you think you are? Now do as you're told bitch, or I'll spray your brains all over the back wall". The biker dug the pistol deeper into Clare's cheek. She turned away to spit out the blood. She turned back with a loathing look aimed at the biker.

"Go on. Try it you fuck. You took me hostage to use me as leverage to steal Trevor's deal with Cheng. You obviously need me alive. I'm very valuable to Cheng. I'm the best at what I do." She didn't break eye contact with the biker. She'd rather die than be violated by this messed up fucker. The biker continued to look down, he also didn't break eye contact. He thought about what she'd just said, he knew she was right. But he wasn't going to be outsmarted by a woman. His ego was too fragile for that, so he cocked his gun and pushed it onto her shoulder.

"I'm going to enjoy this." He said before applying pressure to the trigger and at that moment gunshots and yelling were heard from outside. The biker spun around and zipped up his jeans.

"WHERE ARE YOU BIKER FUCKS?! TIME TO COME OUT AND PLAY!" Trevor could be heard as clear as day from the thin shed. So could the sounds of the other members of the Lost alerting the rest of the camp of his presence with their squeals of pain.

The mouthy biker ran to the door and opened it to poke his head out at the chaos. To his right he saw three men, one he recognised two he did not. The one he did recognise was taking on most of the heat from the bikers in a probably drug fuelled rage and yelling with pleasure as he gunned down multiple bikers. One of the men he didn't recognise took cover near the shed. The mouthy biker retreated inside the shed and hid next to the door ready to jump anyone who'd come in.

"TREV? TREVOR I'M IN HERE!" screamed the hostage at the top of her lungs before being beaten to the floor. The biker hit her so hard he knocked the chair on its side and with it planting Clare's face into the dirt. Michael was suddenly in the shed doorway and the biker was on top of Clare with his pistol on her skull.

"COME ANY CLOSER AND I'LL BLOW HER HEAD OFF. PUT YOUR FUCKING GUN DOWN" spat the biker.

"Look, calm down. Don't do anything stupid." Michael begged the biker with his hands raised, after setting down his gun. In that moment whilst Michael tried to negotiate with the biker, Trevor and Franklin made their way over to where they last saw him. Trevor took cover close to Michael but hadn't noticed him there yet. Franklin was next to Trevor and took out the remaining bikers who either chose to stick around to get shot or ran for the hills. Trevor heard Michael's voice and crept over to where he was standing. Michael took a step back to calm the biker and looked at Trevor for a short second. Trevor nodded at Michael and swung around the doorway of the shed and shot the mouthy biker in the shoulder. The biker lifted off of Clare with force and landed squirming on the dirt clutching his shoulder in agony. Trevor stormed over to the biker, towering over him and aimed his combat MG at the biker's face. Trevor grinned before unloading a hundred bullets into the biker's face. Clare groaned. She was coming back to full consciousness after being knocked out on the ground. Trevor dropped his gun almost instantly and rushed over to her, using his knife from his boot to cut the rope around her wrists. He carefully shifted her hair away from her face and rubbed the dirt off her face. She tucked her hair behind her ears and held her aching jaw.

"Are you hurt?" Trevor asked concerned. He gently cupped Clare's face and scanned it for any other marks other than freckles. His palms were rough but warm; she placed her now free hand on the back of his. The warmth soothed the ache. She looked up at Trevor who still had a look of worry on his face. She felt relieved as she stared into his chocolate eyes and smiled. Trevor's distress melted away as Clare sat up and kissed him. The two closed their eyes and embraced one another while passionately sharing a kiss. She struggled to hold herself up so Trevor wrapped his large arm around her to support her and kissed her neck. The woman then wrapped both her arms around Trevor's hard upper body. Trevor helped her up and the couple held each other for a short while. Clare fit snugly under Trevor's jaw. He kissed her on the top of her head. Michael cleared his throat and Clare broke away from Trevor in embarrassment and turned to greet Michael. Franklin appeared in the doorway next to him.

"Okay let's make this quick. Mike, Frank this is Clare. Clare, Michael, Franklin." Trevor introduced the three strangers to one another. Clare smiled, nodded and said hello and Franklin and Michael imitated her.

"Wait. Michael, as in Michael Townley?" Clare asked.

"It's actually Michael De Santa now but yeah." Michael confirmed.

"Ah ok yeah. I've heard a lot about you."

"I'm guessing if it's from Trevor, everything good I hope?" Michael joked before being pulled down by Franklin and into the shed for cover, barely dodging the bullets that flew passed them. Some of the bikers had found some courage from over the hills and returned for round two.

"C'mon we need to go." Michael commanded. Gunshots and shouting were looming. The bikers were approaching.

"Yeah like right fucking now! They fucking everywhere." added Franklin readying his gun. Clare grabbed the pistol from the dead biker and Trevor picked up his combat MG. He gave Clare his spare pistol, so she was able to dual-wield. Michael looked at Trevor, and Trevor looked at Clare.

"Run and gun?" suggested Clare whilst looking over to Michael then back at Trevor. Trevor did the half smile that Clare loved and led her to the door.

"Okay on three, one two- THREE!" Michael said emerging first with Franklin. They both fired, covering Trevor and Clare. Then the four of them ran though the battlefield that once was the Lost biker's camp blasting their way to Trevor's truck where Ron and Wade were hiding, using the front seats for protection. When the four of them got there, Wade and Ron crawled into the back of the truck to allow Trevor in the driver seat and Clare the privilege of sitting up front. Michael and Franklin also scrambled into the back of the truck.

"ARH FUCK" Yowled Clare in pain.

"You alright?" asked Trevor looking over to her, puzzled.

"Yeah I'm fine just drive! GO!" Clare climbed onto the passenger seat and kneeled on it. Her back was facing the windscreen and she hugged the back of the seat to hold on while Trevor sped away. He floored it; the Bodhi's back tires skidded on the dry brown dirt as it took off down the road away from the Lost camp.


	6. ButtHurt

"Ron, Wade where was the boom? I didn't hear a boom?" Trevor pointed out trying to ignore Clare's pain as she clung to the seat swinging with the truck on corners of the road.

"S-sorry Boss." Ron apologised.

"The bikers, they were everywhere Trevor" Added Wade.

"We couldn't get a good opportunity to fix any sticky bombs. They had the place locked down pretty tight." Ron continued.

"ARGH I ASKED YOU TWO TO DO ONE THING." Trevor was frustrated and lost sight of the aim of the mission.

"Calm down man. It don't matter now. We got your girl, that's all that matters." Franklin diffused the tension between the boss and his henchmen. Michael still had his eyes locked behind them, examining the road for any enemies.

"Yeah. Thanks for that by the way. All of you. I appreciate it." Clare thanked the whole truck. Wade and Ron smiled at her, grateful for her understanding.

"We'll blow those bikers to the moon some other time 'kay?" She added, turning to Trevor. Trevor sighed and looked over to Clare. She smiled and somehow so did her big hazel eyes. Trevor looked into them for a brief second but in that second his rage melted away.

"So what's up with her T?" Michael asked rudely. After making sure they were safe, he turned to face the front. Trevor frowned at Michael in the rear view mirror.

"Nothing is up with me, M. I just got shot." Clare snapped.

"WHAT? Where? Are you bleeding?" Trevor asked anxiously.

"I'm fine. I'll check it out at the trailer." Clare reassured him.

"It'll probably get infected as soon as you step into that corrugated metal death shack" Michael joked.

"FUCK YOU MICHAEL. SAY IT AGAIN" Trevor growled.

"You can't be that 'fine'. You can't sit on that seat for a start" Franklin indicated.

"At least you weren't shot in the butt. That kind of thing stings" Wade winced as he remembered a painful memory and turned to watch the scenery pass the speeding truck. He was like a child looking out a window on a road trip. Ron, Michael and Franklin looked back at Clare and waited for a reply but she went silent.

"...you weren't." Trevor finally understood why she was kneeling on the passenger seat instead of sitting on it like a normal human being. Then he roared with laughter.

"Shut up." Clare commanded with a frown.

"You- you were shot in the ass!" Trevor snorted; his chocolate eyes watering while Clare's cheeks turned a pale pink colour from humiliation. The whole back of the truck were trying to hold in their giggling. Michael coughed and looked away to try and light a cigarette; Franklin cleared his throat and started to fiddle with his gun. Ron bit his lip and Wade was oblivious of the situation and continued to stare out into the open road. The truck pulled up to Trevor's trailer and he killed the engine. He bowed his head in between his large arms that were gripping the steering wheel, trying to contain his laughter. Franklin and Michael got out first and waved goodbye before getting into Michael's car. As soon as they got in and closed the door, they both exploded; letting out two huge cackles. Clare rolled her eyes as she could hear them as they drove off. Ron and Wade got out next and they both made their way to Ron's trailer. Clare awkwardly slid and shuffled off of the passenger seat. Trevor saw she was sore and has some trouble walking so he strutted around from his side of the truck to help her up the steps of his trailer. Trevor's meaty arm was around Clare's waist, taking most of her weight as she struggled up the stairs into the trailer.

"Thanks." Clare said awkwardly.

"No thank you cupcake, haven't laughed like that in a long time. Shot in the caboose. Rookie mistake!" Trevor chuckled.

"Does it hurt?" Trevor's voice changed to a concerned tone.

"It kinda stings. I can't see it. Is it bad?" Clare tried to twist her body to see but she failed. Trevor bent down and glanced at a small rip in her tight, pleather trousers that hugged her bottom, the sight made him aroused (again). He examined the wound. The bullet grazed her right cheek leaving quite a gash near where her thigh and bottom meet.

"It's deep. You're probably gonna need it stitched." Trevor confirmed.

"Great! This is all I needed. Fucking bikers" Clare rubbed her forehead in frustration.

"I can patch you up here if you want." Trevor suggested whilst still bent down examining the wound. Clare spun around surprised.

"Are you serious? What do you know about stitching up a wound?" Clare was looking down at Trevor as if she was giving him a stern talking to. This didn't make him any less aroused.

"Look, I've had to patch myself up before now. At times I couldn't go to the hospital, being on the run n'all. They teach ya shit like that in the force." Trevor continued as he stood up, he was now looking down at Clare, being 6'1" and her being 5'7". Clare took a step back.

"Oh. Yeah, I never thought.." Clare was pondering whether this was a good idea. She didn't want this to turn into something. Yes, he'd seen her bottom before, many times. She also didn't want him knowing what she had tattooed on her bum. The tattoo Trevor had never seen.

"I'll be gentle." Trevor flirted as he walked away to find his first aid kit in the bathroom. Clare rubbed her palms together and watched him nervously. Trevor emerged from his bathroom with the first aid kit and rushed to the cupboards above his sink. He pulled out a bottle of vodka and with no free hands he unscrewed the top of the bottle using his teeth.

"How are we gonna do this? I mean.. where shall I stand, or..." Clare asked. She could feel her face warming up. Probably due to the adrenaline.

"Lean over the counter, and spread your legs apart, I'll need the wound to be as flat as possible. I'll grab a chair" Trevor said as he set down the bottle and first aid kit next to where he instructed Clare to stand. She kicked off her boots while he went over to his dining table to grab a chair. Clare used this moment to take off her trousers without him looking, but this was more painful than she expected. She flinched and inhaled sharply. The sound caused Trevor to jump and turn around; he exhaled and brought the chair over then swiped Clare's hands away.

"I'll do it, I can see around here." Trevor persuaded as he gently slid down her trousers. The cloth stuck to some of the drying blood which caused her trousers to painfully pull on her wound. Clare could feel the heat from his breath on her behind as he slid her trousers down slowly over her bottom, and down to her ankles. She lifted her right foot out so she could step out of them, then the left. He put her trousers on the floor out of the way and then reached for the vodka. The air was still and the trailer was soundless. Clare snatched the bottle took an enormous swig then handed it to him. He grabbed a glass that was drying next to his sink and blew into it. He placed the thread and needle inside the glass and poured in vodka on top of them. He let them soak in the disinfectant for a minute or so. During this time he moved her knickers covering her right cheek to the left exposing her pale olive coloured, fleshy bottom now covered in goosebumps. He splashed some vodka over the woman's wound and then on his hands. She winced and exhaled sharply again. Trevor shook off any residue vodka from the needle and thread and began to sew up her wound. Clare tensed whenever she was pricked with the needle, but Trevor wanted to be precise. He didn't want the job to be half-arsed so he took his time. Then an unexpected tap on the trailer door was heard.

"Hey Trevor? Me and Ron are gonna go get some ice cream, you want some?" It was Wade, being his cute, innocent, natural self.

"NO WADE. I'm fine thank you." Trevor replied harshly to try and get rid of him.

"Okay" Wade said disappointed. The couple heard footsteps and they assumed Wade had walked away, instead his nose was squashed up against the window above Trevor's sink peeping in.

"What'cha doin' Trevor?" Wade asked.

"FUCK OFF WADE!" Trevor yelled scowling at Wade's face in the window. Wade jumped and ran off. Trevor poured some more vodka on the wound just to make sure it won't get infected and dabbed it dry with a kitchen towel.

"There. All done. Lemme just put your panties back" Trevor pulled a little too hard to position the woman's knickers back over her right cheek, exposing a little of her tattoo on her left cheek. He read the tattoo, it was in the style of as if her bottom had been stamped, similar to how cargo is stamped when its shipped somewhere. The stamp read: Property of T. P. Industries. The tattoo was small, only clearly readable this close. He didn't comment on it. Clare waddled over to her trousers and pulled them on carefully.

"Thank you"

"No problemo... I gotta look after my property, after all." Trevor teased.

"Excuse me?" Clare was insulted.

"Your tattoo? It says Property of T. P. Industries" Trevor clarified.

"Oh my god. You were never meant to see that. I was gonna get it lasered in LS" Clare stuttered.

"When did you get it done? I've never seen it before." Trevor asked, genuinely curious.

"If you really want to know, I've had it since we were up in North Yankton. I had it done up there. It didn't cost much. Your face would always light up when you'd fantasise about owning your own business. You said you'd name it T. P. Industries or T. P. Inc or whatever... I was gonna be a surprise you on that day... that day I never saw you again. I know I was stupid, the whole thing was stupid. I wanted to make you laugh. You were so stressed around that time. Guess it was cos of that job that ended up going wrong" Clare explained rushing her words. Trevor placed his hand on her shoulder turning her attention toward him so he could speak.

"It did make me smile. It was a surprise. It's my fault it's about a decade too late, but it still did its job... well actually it's Michael's fault, blame him." Trevor smiled that half smile that drove Clare wild and she thanked him again and kissed him on the cheek. She pulled away from him and they locked eyes.

"Ah fuck it!" Clare said before she put her hands on his cheeks, pulling his face down to level hers. She then closed her eyes and planted her lips onto Trevor's, his eyes were wide with shock then they melted closed as he enjoyed her mad moment of passion.


End file.
